Injuries
by CynicalInkSlinger
Summary: Max gets hurt. Fang gets information. Stuff happens. FAX


**Here's a story that I wrote a while ago (an excuse for the cheesey poem, and using 'blue' to end three different lines), and typed up only now as part of my effort to type up all my stories. So long ago, in fact, that it was written before the conclusion of the series, so some of the stuff, like the Voice, was speculative in its portrayal. Hope you enjoy- though it's not finished yet.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not James Patterson. Shocker.**

_**Injuries**_

Max PoV

I blocked left then kicked out, smashing an Eraser's nose into its brain, effectively killing it. I had no time to watch it fall as I blocked and punched in a flurry alongside my flock.

We had only been doing this for a month, but I still felt like an old hand. I mean, it required basically the same skill set I had needed for most of the past few years. Only this time, it was _us_ doing the hunting. I grinned ferally as I took down another Eraser.

Most of the mutants had come out on our side after all was said and done- that is, the side of settling down and enjoying not being hunted or tortured. But some, Erasers all, had, ah, _opposed_ this idea. They hadn't been tortured, I guess, so they still felt all-powerful. All they wanted was to terrorize the world. Neither original nor smart in my opinion, especially considering once they were found out, they'd get hunted out by the FBI or whatever.

Not that any of us would cry to see them put down, but the dog-breaths gave all mutants a bad name, and we really didn't need anyone else after us. So while the rest of the mutants enjoyed their share of Itex's profits and liquidized assets (A couple million, minimum, per person), the good ol' flock were called on the job.

Actually, we were sort of glad for the action. We were more prepared for it than anyone else, and after a few months, were more bored than we'd like to admit. So we all stuck our money in banks to collect interest while we were exterminating, keeping a bit (say, 10,000) on the Max Ride card for travel use.

Which was why I was in a ratty basement in LA, kicking Eraser butt, and doing well, of course. Iggy using his new fire power and Fang his teleportation, both parting gifts from the tech-savvy kids at Itex before we burned all the facilities. No one else really wanted one.

_Max!_ panicked the Voice, which, yeah, lucky me, is still with us. It has, luckily, stopped spewing save-the-world nonsense and settled back to advise me more casually.

**What? A bit busy here!** I managed to hiss back mentally before I was knifed in the side. I looked down and saw red blood spreading before my eyes closed. The last thing I heard before I completely blacked out was Fang, yelling my name.

Fang PoV

As I finished off an Eraser with a kick to the spine, I looked over to check on Max- just in time to see her get stabbed. The world seemed to mute and move slowly for a moment as Max looked down at the wound. As everything sped up again, I yelled, lunging forward to catch Max and snap the neck of her attacker.

I couldn't keep back a strangled sob of fear seeing Max's pale, expressionless face. Throwing a "U and A!" over my shoulder, I dashed out of the building and threw myself into the air, closely followed by the rest of the flock. I flew straight and fast to our current hideout, a nondescript apartment in Santa Monica.

I landed right outside our door, discretion be torn into pieces and burned. Bursting in and placing Max gently on the couch, I turned to give orders.

"Angel, get water. Gazzy, fly to the store, fast, to get more bandages. Iggy, inspect the wound. Nudge, help him," I said fast, barely keeping my face and voice emotionless. I couldn't, however, stop the tears from rolling. This wasn't supposed to happen. Everyone snapped into action, including myself, as I gathered every bit of medical material and medicine we had.

Iggy was almost as pale as Max. "It- it's pretty bad," he said quietly.

I shoved all we had into his arms. "Do what you can. We'll have to take her to Dr. Martinez," I replied. Iggy looked surprised at my monotone voice. Too bad. I needed it.

Nudge looked at him and without a word lifted his hand to feel my face- my tears, I suppose. He looked shocked, and even paler. He turned back to Max and deftly washed and started bandaging Max's stab wound. Angel and Gazzy had gotten back while I had been gathering supplies.

"We leave for Dr. Martinez's in half an hour," I announced before rapidly starting to stow my few items in my pack. After doing what they could for Max, the rest of the flock followed suit.

Having finished before the rest of them were even half done, I started packing Max's stuff, seeing as she… couldn't. As I finished gathering all her belongings, I found a green notebook with a metal flower on it under Max's favorite shirt. A journal.

I finished packing the rest of the stuff, then, feeling guilty, sat down and opened it to a random page. There was a block of writing on it, which looked like a poem.

_Something old and something new_

_Why do I have such new feelings for you?_

_Something borrowed and something blue_

_I lean on you when I am blue_

_But_

_All of a sudden, out of the blue,_

_I think I'm falling for my tried and true_

_I'm so worried that you'll see through_

_To the part of me that wants to say_

_I love you._

I felt like my lungs had been stolen. My outward calm couldn't take such a wave of emotion, and I bowed over, overcome. Was the poem about me? With Max like this… would I ever know? After loving her so long, and this is the time I find this. It just wasn't fair.

I covered my eyes with my hand, fighting back my emotions. This wasn't about me. I needed to be there, for the flock, and for Max. I picked myself up, tossing the journal back on Max's floor and heading back into the main room as the others gathered there as well.

"Iggy, take Max's backpack, Nudge, take Max's sleeping bag, and Gazzy, take Iggy's sleeping bag, to spread the weight around," I instructed. Hopefully we wouldn't need sleeping bags, but we'd certainly learned to be prepared.

"Fang, I want to take your sleeping bag." Angel, who till now had been very quiet, spoke up now, determined.

"No, Angel, I can handle it," I shook my head. She was so little. She didn't need this, when I could carry it on my own.

Angel set her face and grabbed the sleeping bag before I could stop her, heading out the door. "Hurry up," her voice came back, "We need to go." I sighed and felt appreciation for her stubbornness, as well as regret for it's need, as the rest of us put on our packs.

I took Max into my arms and took off with the rest of the flock. I looked into her pale face, wondering if I would ever see her warm brown eyes ever open again. I didn't think I could bear it. What would we do- what would_ I _do- if she was gone?


End file.
